Best 91 quotes in «firefighter quotes» category

Our Nation must provide sufficient access to healthcare, adequate benefits, and the supplemental resources our veterans were promised and so dearly need. We owe our heroes no less.

The guts carry the feet, not the feet the guts.

Poets and heroes are of the same race, the latter do what the former conceive.

Secretly, I wanted to look like Jimi Hendrix, but I could never quite pull it off.

The innovative leader has to be an arsonist and a firefighter.

See, heroes never die. John Wayne isn't dead, Elvis isn't dead. Otherwise you don't have a hero. You can't kill a hero. That's why I never let him get older.

The heroes of Flight 93 won the first battle in the War on Terror, and they should never be forgotten.

They were involved in a firefight and felt they were surrounded. Whether they escaped from that and were fleeing and went in the wrong direction, we don't know.

There were a lot of people in our nationalist group who went on to become cops and firefighters and correctional officers. Unfortunately so. I haven't talked to them in 20 years, but just by keeping tabs on Facebook I know that there are some who've gone that way. And they've never indicated publicly that they've changed their opinions. It's a minority.

There are terrible, terrible memories of September 11th, things that I saw, people that I lost, the devastation, the identification of bodies. I mean, all these memories come back to you at different times. And then the other side of it this tremendous response with the firefighters and the police officers saving people, the rescue workers.

The will to live that possesses us to create medicine, to become firefighters or teachers, is the same will to live that is woven into all living beings.

Those two songs condense the two albums. They also show what the audiences wanted. I was desperate to keep the band together and find something that the public would like.

We like our archetypes and heroes to be what they are at face value. And life doesn't work out like that

Tom Arnold and I, we have a huge firefight scene on top of a German tank. I get to shoot 50 caliber rounds. We shoot a helicopter out of the sky. That's the only fight I'm in.

True courage is being afraid, and going ahead and doing your job anyhow, that's what courage is.

Wanted: a needle swift enough to sew this poem into a blanket.

We were like heroes, to stand there and observe the police, and the police were scared to move upon us.

This is a wonderful way to celebrate an 80th birthday... I wanted to be 65 again, but they wouldn't let me - Homeland Security.

What I want to bring back to superheroes with this project is a sense of play. Things have gotten so dreary. The heroes have gotten so ugly that even their muscles have muscles.

What firefighters, and people in our military and cops do is separate from what the rest of us do, basically these people say "I'm going to protect all these strangers.

What is our task? To make Britain a fit country for heroes to live in.

When I was younger, there was a huge gap between what I wanted to do and what I could do as an idol.

Women love firefighters so much because it’s like a knight in shining armor kind of thing.

You had a package. It was torn, so I looked in.” She lifted one of a stack of firefighter calendars, with his own mug and half-naked body on the cover. “Nice,” she said, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips. “Mr. 2008.” He bit back a sigh. “It’s for charity.” “And you definitely contributed.

Women can't be afraid to look like action heroes. It's not always pretty, but when it's on the screen, it translates well to the audience.

We can't all be heroes, because somebody has to sit on the curb and applaud when they go by.

Writing is a passion I have never understood, yet a storyteller is all I have ever wanted to be.

A smile curved the corners of his mouth under the dust-and soot-covered visor. “You’re crying? I answered his question with my tear-stricken gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.” He reached his hand out and I grasped it tightly.

Every Hero Becomes a Bore at last." Ralph Waldo Emerson

Great…” He sighed. “Where’s the boy? And you shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, glancing over his shoulder at Sam. “I heard Chief’s alert.” “Safe, outside—where do you think I’d go?” I smiled. It was just like Lockland to be selfless and think of the boy’s welfare instead of his own. I shook my head, knowing Lock would expect me to respect his wishes, to keep myself safe, but his safety meant more to me than my own well-being. “Remember, it’s you and me until the end,” I murmured, choking. I never thought words could be so hard to speak. “You made that promise. I’m keeping it.

Here is the recipe to blow something up: a Pyrex bowl; potassium chloride—found at health food stores, as a salt substitute. A hydrometer. Bleach. Take the bleach and pour it into the Pyrex, put it onto a stove burner. Meanwhile, weigh out your potassium chloride and add to the bleach. Check it with the hydrometer and boil until you get a reading of 1.3. Cool to room temperature, and filter out the crystals that form. This is what you will save. [...] You need 56 grams of these reserved crystals. Mix with distilled water. Heat to a boil and cool again, saving the crystals, pure potassium chlorate. Grind these to the consistency of face powder, and heat gently to dry. Melt five parts Vaseline with five parts wax. Dissolve in gasoline and pour this liquid onto 90 parts potassium chlorate crystals in a plastic bowl. Knead. Allow the gasoline to evaporate. Mold into a cube and dip in wax to make it waterproof. This explosive requires a blasting cap of at least a grade A3.

I know what it’s like to be different. I’m a Native American in a white world.

Boy oh boy, this man is trouble. He was slowly tearing down the wall she’d built around her heart, brick by brick. Could any man be this perfect? He must have some faults. Maybe he is a chauvinist pig…no, doesn’t seem like it. He is kind to animals and children, he is a fireman, he looks like sex on a stick. What could be wrong with him? Maybe he snores. Oh, wouldn’t I like to find out?

I’ll see you later,” I murmured. “Yeah.” Our foreheads pressed together. Our lips lingered half an inch apart. Thin ropes of dark hair hung over his forehead as sweat glistened across his face in the streetlights. “Love you.” “Love you more,” he murmured.

I’m not leaving him, Sam! And I’m not waiting for the others to help.

Mmm, carry me.” I laughed, reaching for my sweatpants. “I carry girls, boys, and women, not fully grown capable men.” “Slacker.” He grinned, shoving me.

Brodie found herself frowning in confusion, the rugged handsome one was making no sense. “But I just want to have sex with you… no commitment, no sharing. If anything, I would prefer it if you didn’t talk at all, before, during, or after the act.

She always thought of Aaron as special not less. He was God’s gift to her, and she wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Sean swung around and crossed the hall in one long stride. He pushed open the door and they moved into her bedroom, lit only by the warm glow of her bedside lamp. The next thing Evie knew, she was flat on her back on her king-size bed with a fierce-eyed warrior braced over her. "Your're not wearing any underwear, are you?" She giggled. "There's only one way to find out for sure." "Don't have to ask me twice." He pushed the hem of her dress up her thighs. Instant heat rushed to her sex. It was those damn hands of his, their size and power and gentleness. They made her melt just by landing on her body.

Sharon looked at Aaron and smiled. She’d made the right decision, hadn’t she? Would she come to regret this decision too? She’d made so many mistakes in the past. Was this another one? No, self-doubt isn’t an option. Everything is going to work out here. It has to.

She loved her son and wanted him to make a fresh start here. Her ex-husband always tried to pass Aaron off as normal, not wanting anyone to know his son was different. She wasn’t going to go down that road.

She stood almost a foot shorter than him, but that had never been a problem, given most of their conversations had been horizontal. The years had filled out her curves, and she wore those few extra pounds of plush well, especially below the flare of her hips. The ass that dethroned JLo, or some shit. Her shapely figure had its own press corps. A woman like this was built to be bedded, and often.

She was everything he loved about a woman wrapped up in a cute little package. Golden blonde hair was secured to the top of her head in a ponytail, he bet it would reach her waist when it was loose. Her body was curvy in all the right places, her breasts more than filled out the T-shirt she was wearing and those hips, dang he could just imagine holding onto them while she rode him, instead of Big Red.

Snuggle up with a hot fireman! Meet Tanner West. Sharon looked up into the most gorgeous face she had ever seen. Eyes like dark chocolate, deep and warm, stared out at her from a face that looked like it could have been chiseled in stone. Skin the color of burnished copper, high cheekbones, a sharp nose, full lips, and a cleft chin. How the hell had she failed to notice him before? Her heart skipped a beat and she ran her gaze down the rest of his body. He was tall, well over six feet, she would guess, with broad shoulders that tapered into a trim waist. His thighs, encased in worn denim, fit like a second skin against legs the size of tree trunks, and oh my, what lay between those thighs… Her attention snapped back to his face and she could feel the heat of a blush suffuse her skin.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is one of my personal heroes.

The hand at her back stroked up and down. Never straying too far south, but igniting a fire inside her that she wanted this fireman to stoke instead of extinguish

Wyatt Fox. It suited him. Clean, masculine, not a syllable wasted. Like James Bond, if 007 included cowboy-marine-firefighter in his stable of personae. Fox. Wyatt Fox. License to thrill—and send your panties plummeting.

That voice. It couldn’t be. She turned. The Marine. Her brain tried to compute the man before her. The same uncompromising blue-gray eyes, but more distant. The same fit body, but more space filling. The same rugged features, but more bearded. Bearded!

What would it be like to be caught in the emotional crosshairs of a man like Luke Almeida? To belong to him, body and soul? The prospect warmed her some. Scared her more. With Luke, she suspected there would be no half measures.

You know, we can still put that suit to use, though.” I glanced toward the truck and Lock’s face lit up as I closed the distance between us. “What happened to needing a shower?” “Showers are overrated,” I whispered, holding his gaze through the visor. “Plus,” I turned my head to look down the hall, “Jay is down there now.” “That’d be right. Let me just hang up my hat.” He was pulling away when I caught his wrist. “Nuh-uh. Keep the helmet. I want to be with my firefighter.